Sunday, May 25, 2014

How To Rob A Bank

I have always been amazed by how animals don’t need to be tutored about the birds-and-the-bees. They’re just born with the knowledge of how to go about having sexy time with each other. And we humans, to the exclusion of Mahesh Bhatt, have to be told what sources to trust with such information and what all to ignore. So much about being the smartest species alive! However, I feel as nature-taught as a dog in heat today because the knowledge of how to rob an international bank just occurred to me out of thin air! Or maybe, it’s just a result of watching the same shit being recycled again and again on the big screen. I’ll leave that for you to decide.

Stealing money from an international bank’s safe vault is not a one man job. A team of highly skilled people is what you require to execute your master plan; and the following is a list of bad-asses you must find as soon as possible.

The Master Planner

Since you’re the one looking for people to help you execute the biggest robbery in history, or whatever other fancy unauthentic statistical bullshit you think it would be, you don’t need to go too far to look for this guy. Just look at yourself in the mirror and make an Abhishek Bacchan serious face. That dickpakoda of a Master Planner is you. You don’t ever smile or laugh because apparently some random kid in second grade stole your lunch money which you wanted to spend on buying matar-kulcha from the redhi wala. It made you realize the importance of money because matar-kulcha features top in the list of essentials for life and you vowed back then, in frikkin’ second grade, to take ek ek paise ka hisaab from this paapi duniya or some such. So instead of becoming an accountant and literally learning the skill of keeping ek ek paise ka hisaab, you decided to conduct the steal show of xyz billion dollars. And that has probably got something to do with never laughing or having a good time. Because you could not have a mothafrikkin’ matar-kulcha when you were seven.

Needless to say that the matar-kulcha could be a metaphor for any other important thing that you remained bereft of in your childhood; like fees to pay the doctor for your mummy ka ilaaj. Or, one tight slap!

The Security Wiz

This guy will help you create a 3D plan of the whole complex in which the bank is situated, which shows that he can get access to the detailed blue print of the whole floor without really telling you how he got it because insignificant information. He is also brilliant at things like hacking all the computers of the world at any given moment (irrespective of whether they’re connected to the internet or not); playing an unsuspicious video clip in place of the live CCTV camera footage for the security guards while you pass them by; cutting off the power for ten seconds so that no one can see you perform a stunt that would actually get you a few whistles at Milan cinema; help you crack the security code while you stethoscope the vault’s door like it is Sonam Kapoor’s bosom (I know the door looks flat, and that’s exactly why... um, nevermind); AND most importantly, do a day job of waiting tables at a café because yeah, that’s the dream! Baaki sab toh bas ainwayi Ankit Fadia ka hacking course kar ke seekh liya.

He will help you because he desperately needs the money and despite having all those skills, applying for a job at a software company doesn’t occur to him. Also, he is unaware of the fact that jiski kahin placement nahi hoti, usko EY mein to mil hi jaati hai. This is proof of how stupid doing a hacking course from Ankit Fadia can make you.

The Acrobat and/or The Diva

It goes without saying that you’ll need someone to dance through the laser light sabres that make a web of deadliness before the main vault. This guy will also arrange for a bottle of spray that would help him see the laser trails and acrobat the shit out of every Baba Ramdev move, while he dodges the laser beams like a badass. Or he could just anulom-vilom-kapaal-bhaati instead of using the spray, but compulsive need to act fancy schmancy, yo!

It would be better if you find a lady to do this job as you’ll anyway need one to add glamour to your otherwise sausage fest of a group. While she will move through the laser room in sync with a sexy background score, you can ogle at her like she is your brother’s hone wali bhabhi. She will also be of help in distracting security personnel by acting like she is in desperate need of scented candles and a saxophone player.

You can find her at a circus in Vegas because apart from being acrobatic enough to pull off the scene, she will be dumb enough to travel the path webbed by laser beams only to have you, the Master Goddamn Planner, stethoscope the shit out of the vault later and steal the limelight in the climax.

The Explosives Guy

The home taught explosives maker that he is, he will do the bombs that act as distractions and those that are required to blast holes in walls, but will not do the Bomb of the group because after the whole robbery, she will be seen having a Christian wedding with the Master Planner in the Bahamas.

You also need this idiot to bring in some comic relief while you rehearse the act, because he will invariably screw up his shit at least once and then show a face covered in soot, which is oh my god, so original and funny, my stomach hurts like labor pain from all the laughing.

Or, in case you realize that finding such people is too much of a pain, you could just get yourself:

A Retarded Twin with an Ichha-dhaari Motorbike

Because ichha-dhaari naag and naagin are too mainstream and no one can tell who among you two is the retarded brother, you just need to get yourself a one million lakh crore thousand billion CC motorbike that ichha-anusaar transforms itself into a speedboat, a flying saucer, a dancing Katrina Kaif and so-much-false-sense-of-self-worth-that-comes-with-the-name-Aamir-Khan that it will pretty much conduct the whole robbery on your behalf while you ponder about the motive behind robbing the bank… And when common sense strikes, jump into a water body that could be a dam, or better still, a chullu.

This piece originally appeared here on Mansi Dutta's blog, eat pray love Movies.

Also, two thank you puchiyan to my praa, Rahat Chhabra, for the idea :* :*

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Sunday, May 18, 2014

Sushi Ki Paen Di!

I know that the world seems like a small place now and we’re all so called “global citizens” aware of world news, brands and cuisines; but being a pakka Dilli wala, a beauty-queen with the surname Sen is the only thing that comes to my mind when someone says “sushi”. As I had recently been invited to review a restaurant to which I did full justice by writing about everything but the food, my friends thought that it’s about time I was made to try out some international cuisine, so that I don’t embarrass them at an Asian restaurant again, like the time when the server asked if I wanted some green curry and I responded with, “Ah Paalak Paneer, yes!”

So, I happened to be chilling at a praa’s place recently, when it was decided to order some veg sushi. Psyched about how the new food experience would give me something sensible to talk about when people discuss Japanese cuisine, instead of making a stupid joke about the Paan originating in JaPaan, I consented to the idea, feeling cool about how there was a vegetarian version of the dish that made it possible for me to taste it. Our meal arrived in a ribboned little plastic box with eight circular pieces of sushi that looked like close cousins of a fancy Haldiram’s mithai. There was one little transparent box with a hari, pudine ki dahi wali chutney and another which when emptied out on our plate looked like thin shreds of red meat. The packing also had what seemed little recycled bottles of eye drops with soy sauce in them.

The plate was laid nice and pretty and I was convinced that what looked like shreds of meat were actually shreds of vinegared ginger, which kind of made me feel disappointed in them for not sending sirke wale pyaaz. But the real disappointment came when I was told that not even one of the sushi’s had a paneer filling! I mean, I know I don’t know shit about food, but how in frig do you make a vegetarian version of a non-vegetarian dish by not adding any paneer! I thought they would’ve compensated with a soya chaap filling, but nahi! BC, restaurant kholna hai India mein chaahe Indians ki liking ke bare mein kuchh na pata ho! On top of that, what I was mistaking for hari chutney, turned out to be this weird shit called wasabi, which I could not even save for later to have my evening pakodas with.

On reading the description from the menu, I found that the filling was avocados, cucumbers, asparagus and shiitake mushrooms, rolled into sticky rice and sea weed, which if translated to Hindi would be samudri paalak ke patton mein sabse saste wale khichdi ke chaawal aur Amreeka ke lauki-tori daal diye. In just one bite of the goddamned sushi, I realized why you’re supposed to empty the contents of their plastic box on to a plate and have it. So that you can hold the empty box close to your mouth and throw up not just the little morsel of BC-kya-bakwaas-hai-yeh you tried to consume, but also make your intestines reverse engineer and barf the shit at the end of your rectum through your mouth.

I can’t say much about how the avocado or asparagus tasted in the whole concoction. But, I’m sure the avocado tasted something like the guacamole I once had in my burrito, which could’ve been any of the sauces it was dressed with, none of which I really hated. But I’d blame myself for being foolish to have agreed to eat something which gives a heads up about tasting like shit in its name itself. I mean, what the friggin’ hell is your shit-ake mushroom! It’s a simple mushroom that you cook with matar and sauté in matar paneer wali gravy, but shittier looking and even shittier tasting. Also, you know what! It has a double-i in the Shiitake, emphasizing more on how friggin’ shitty it really is!

After going through such a terrible experience, I realized that it gave me some wonderful life lessons, like every other terrible break up experience does.

- I’ve been told how a person’s eating habits reflect in his looks. So, do not ever decide to marry a Japanese woman no matter how pretty she looks. Haldiram ki mithai and all that, my patoots!

- A cute name does not really mean cuteness on the inside. So, I’m glad that you have a girlfriend named Simi. Sorry, I’m not interested.

- If kids in India hate lauki-tori-tinda, then kids in Japan must hate sushi-sushi-sushi. 

- Do not trust these videshi people with what they’re trying to do with our culture. Matlab, aaj ki generation ko poora spoil kar diya hai. Paeri pauna your ma-pyo and eat Dal Makhni. Koi sushi pushi ni khaana.

- Japaniyon di bebey ne onha nu chawl khaan ni sikhaaye! Rice is best eaten as Rajma Chawl, Chhole Chawl and Kadhi Chawl, oye hoye!

- Wah Ji Wah ka Soya Chaap roll kha ke dekh, chicken shikan bhool jaayega!

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